Page 2 of Tainted Love
I guess I can’t blame her. We were all forced to grow up too quickly after Mum’s mental breakdown when Dad left. As a result, we were shunted into the foster care system. Though Athena should know better than to call repeatedly unless something is really wrong. When you’ve been through what we’ve been through, you reserve the dramatics for a hospital visit or death.
“Mum got married.”
My eyes widen. “She fucking what?” I somehow manage to choke out. “To who? Are you fucking high right now, Attie?”
She snorts. “As if, Eli. Where would I even get drugs from anyway? Unless you have some stashed in your room?”
“Stay out of my room,” I growl.
“Jeez, way to bring down the mood. I thought you’d be happy for her. You know how lonely she’s been since Bradley left.” I swallow down the bile which rises at the back of my throat at the memories of Mum’s jerk of an ex-boyfriend as my blissfully unaware little sister prattles on. “He’s rich too. Like mega rich.He lives in a mansion and everything.”
I push my hair back off my forehead. “I’ve only been gone three months. She wasn’t seeing anyone when I left, so of course I’m freaking confused right now. Who is this guy, and why isn’t Mum calling me herself?”
“She told me to wait until you came home, but I knew you’d get mad and yell at her.”
“Oh, you did smarty-pants?” I fight to keep the amusement out of my voice before muttering a curse. “Does Oli know?”
There’s a pause, and I pull my phone away from my ear to check if we’re still connected.
“Attie? Have you told Oli?”
“She didn’t answer my calls. She hasn’t answered any of my calls … for months.”
I mentally berate my twin for ignoring our little sister when I hear the hurt in Attie’s voice. Oli took off in Dad’s old Kombi with her best friend, Callie, four months ago. It was not long after she broke up with her boyfriend, Asher’s douchebag older brother, Troy.
No one knows what went down between them, but it was satisfying to watch the blood spurt from his broken nose, even if my hand hurt like a bitch afterward. Oli checks in with me once a week, but only because I threatened to put the bastard in an early grave if she didn’t call. Asher would be right next tome holding the shovel—there’s no love lost between the brothers.
“I’ll take care of it,” I grunt out.
“Tell her I miss her.”
“I will. Now, tell me more about this rich prick Mum tied herself to.”
“Darren’s real nice,” Athena says, disapproval coating her tone. “He’s a lawyer at the firm Mum temps at. but get this…” She pauses for dramatic effect, and my patience grows thin.
“Athena Katerina Vasilios,” I growl.
She scoffs at my use of her full name and continues with her gossip. “They went to primary school together! I mean, swoon, how cute is that? It’s like they were meant to be.” Then she drops the next bombshell. “And we’re moving out of the flat, Eli. You should see Darren’s place in Hampton, it overlooks the beach and everything. There are enough bedrooms that even Oli will have her own when she finally shows her face again. There is also a soundproofed media room which he said you can use for band practise, so you can move out of Killian’s dad’s shed. No more noise complaints. Isn’t that great?”
“Peachy,” I mutter.
Athena ignores my attitude and continues to go on about how happy Mum is and how we’re finally getting the break we deserve. Yet all I can think about is what happened the last time she lost herself because she thought she was in love with a man. Bradley fucking King—a dirty old man who promised Mum the world before returning to his wife and kids when the novelty of a younger woman wore off. At least that time, Oli and I were old enough to help pull her together before she spiralled out of control again, and Athena didn’t have to suffer the same fate we did. There’s no way I’ll ever let it happen again, especially to Attie.
I love my mum, but the damn woman doesn’t know howto be happy on her own. Apparently, her kids aren’t enough for her. My chest tightens, and my vision blurs. The unresolved feeling of hurt I can usually repress hits me like a freight train. The dark vortex swirls around my feet and threatens to pull me inside.
A pair of masculine arms wrap around my shoulder, and it knocks the phone from my hand. “Shit, sorry dude,” Killian laughs, drunkenly kisses the side of my head and shoves a plastic cup of amber liquid in my hand. “Serves you right for being a party pooper. Let’s get white girl wasted, brother.”
I groan and bend down to retrieve my phone. “Attie? I gotta go. But I’ll be home in a week, and I’ll deal with it then.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Yeah. Love you, too.” I hang up the call and slip my phone into the back pocket of my jeans, then lift the cup to my lips. I wince at the burn of the whiskey as the entire contents slides down my throat.
“That’s more like it, bro.” Killian drags me over to the nearest bar where Asher and Wyatt are sitting at a table in the VIP bar. Seated with them are the bass guitarist and drummer from the Romping Rhinos—a punk rock band from Perth.
Asher raises his eyebrows at me as I take a seat, but I shake my head. I’d rather not talk. Instead, there’s a tray of shots in the middle of the table, and I help myself, knocking one back.
“Keep ‘em coming, boys,” I say to the guys, striking the empty shot glass twice on the table. “I’m in the mood to get fucked up.”
